


Cut-off Age

by ana_kl



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: AU: Auston doesn't play hockey, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:35:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25523704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ana_kl/pseuds/ana_kl
Summary: Auston Matthew is 26 and he's not ok.
Relationships: Frederik Andersen/Auston Matthews
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

Auston Matthews is 26 years old. 

He has big goals and a plan for his life. He recently graduated from university with a second degree in business, but it's his first degree, in medieval studies, that he's truly passionate about. He doesn't really know why, but he's been fascinated by illuminated manuscripts, ancient royal families and warfare in the middle ages since he was a child. His mom would take him to the library every week when he was ten and already, he was borrowing from the history section and even reading Shakespeare. He's happy that he can read and speak Spanish: he loves the fantasies and stories that old European cathedrals inspire and he wants to know more. Boys and girls his age think about becoming celebrities, or getting married and raising a family; Auston wants to move to England and teach history or medieval literature at Oxford. 

As he makes his way through his first university program, all his professors would unanimously agree that he has the intelligence, drive and dedication to do it. He's closer to his professors than he is to his peers and as crush after crush amounts to nothing more than an unrequited attraction, as he loses touch with classmates who go back to their home countries or just move on with life, he thinks that it's maybe better that way. He's lucky enough to have a few professors who've mentored him and even given him opportunities to work as a teaching assistant in their introductory level classes. He finds the most fulfillment there, inspiring other students to take an interest in something they perceive as mind-numbing and most of all, in helping them overcome the exam anxiety, personal problems and self-doubt that he knows all too well. It's how he knows that this is what he wants to do.

He thinks he understands what "campus community" means when he realizes that he can confide in his professors that his second degree, business, isn't really what he wants to do, but his family wants him to do something "practical" and after so many times not feeling like his passion is being taken seriously, after being warned off the arts, maybe he's getting a little scared, too, that he'll end up overqualified and unemployed. His professors are honest with him -- jobs aren't exactly in surplus in the field, but there are opportunities and he's capable of getting them. They take him seriously, they help him keep his interest alive while he kind of has to pursue other things and as he skips the occasional accounting and marketing class to spend the day at the massive humanities library, tucking away precious ideas to read _Beowulf_ as insight into modern immigration politics, xenophobia and racism or study medieval Scripture and liturgical writing to find out how violence against women was inherited by the 21st century and figure out how to put a stop to it, he believes that he'll maybe make it after all. He spends an entire summer looking up programs at Oxford and making a list of his favorite colleges, bookstores, nearby attractions that he'll more than likely visit alone, yoga studios he wants to try out and he even drafts a budget that if he follows properly, he'll be able to pay his way through a Master's program even if he doesn't get much scholarship money. He starts saving from his job that summer, opens a new savings account that he privately calls his "Oxford Account" and it really feels like this might be coming together. Maybe he doesn't have m/any friends, but it feels like he's getting closer to his dream, he's seeing a little light in the two years he spent on his business degree because maybe it'll give him higher earning power and maybe, it'll all be worth it in the end. He'll start a real career that makes him happy and excited to go to work every day, he'll feel rewarded in what he's doing and maybe he'll even meet someone, a really nice guy who won't look at him and think he's too tall or too muscular to be cuddled. 

When Auston's 23, he lets himself be hopeful but at 26, he knows he's been naive. 

He's 25 when he takes a job in administration. He doesn't really know what the job is, but the hours let him keep taking more classes so that he can present a stronger Master's application. He needs time -- a few years at least to take class and think about what he's going to propose as a dissertation -- he needs money and he kind of feels the need to prove to his family that yes, he thinks history is a real job but yes, he can be taken seriously and he can take care of himself. 

He makes enough to buy an ok apartment close to the university and there are restaurants, boutiques and clubs to visit nearby. He doesn't go to any of them, though. He goes to class and he goes to work and he starts going to the gym early every morning before work, because it's the only way he can cope with a job he didn't understand and was stupid enough to take in the first place. 

It's not the first time that Auston's worked: he's had summer jobs in retail, even coached a little on the junior hockey team he grew up playing on not so much because he wanted to but because his dad wanted him to. Nothing beats the teaching job he had at the university, though. 

It isn't that he doesn't have experience or that he doesn't want to work. He has the education, the work ethic, dedication and he's so genuine with people. 

The job he took nearly crushes all of that. 

His boss is a nice person, but it's the first time he's actually had professional conflict with someone. They don't see eye to eye on anything and on how it needs to be done. Where Auston is aiming for results and bringing teams together, his boss fixates on high profile donors who know nothing about the university but have the money to keep it going. "VIPs," she calls them. She's generally disorganized and has so much on the go that she forgets half the tasks she assigns Auston and he soon becomes confused and unsure of what he's doing at work. Going to the gym gives him structure, makes him feel like he's making progress on something. He fights himself in the weight room, then he fights for what he wants in school and at his job. Because the job is a way to get to what he wants to do. 

But then he's given a task that's way out of his scope of capacity; he's not even sure he should've been given it. He finds a way to solve the problem anyways by getting the right help and talking to other departments. But his boss isn't happy because she thinks he should've been able to do it by himself. She tells him that she thinks she misunderstood his qualifications, he thanks her for her feedback and then on his lunch break, he goes to his favorite spot in the library, where he'd go when he skipped class, and cries. It's a shared space with students, so he knows someone could find him, but he's also learned that he can walk through a crowd on the verge of tears and no one will think to ask him what's wrong. He has a letter of resignation drafted and saved on his desktop, but he nevers turns it in. He doesn't like to quit and it's a six month contract. Maybe he can stick it out. Then six becomes eight because even though he doesn't know what he's doing anymore and he 's not sure that his boss even likes him as a person, she doesn't have time to look for someone else when an urgent project comes up and he's needed. He tries to think about what this will do for his resume, at the very least, about the money he's making, but it comes at a price he only realizes he's paid after the job ends. 

He leaves with the usual formalities, the "thank you for your work" he's not even sure is sincere. He also leaves feeling demotivated, deeply exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with physical fatigue and he doubts in his abilities. He stops going to the gym and he tries to look for other jobs, but he hands in at least twenty applications for what really sound like ideal jobs and hears nothing back. He has two degrees, one he forced himself through specifically to avoid being unemployed, and he can't even make it to an interview. 

He's 26 when he gets another job, covering for someone on parental leave. It's high up but underpaid, doesn't have much to do with his interests and he's pretty sure he's not qualified for the postion. But he's the only applicant, as he soon finds out and he's desperate. He's been out of work for two months and the same nagging voice that persuades him to do the business degree also tells him that's too long to go without work. So he applies and takes it, realizing only after he's signed the contract for over a year that he had the right to ask for more information on the job, that he could've asked for more time to read the contract before signing, that he should've seen the warning signs: as with his previous job, the contract says more than the job description. He didn't realize until it was too late that he had a choice. 

He's 26 years old and he sees 20 year olds on Instagram who are farther along in life than he's ever been. He's pretty sure that most of the flirty, suggestive and licentious comments are posted by people his age or older, but it's not toned bodies, jewels, villas, gourmet food and sex that he sees. Instead, he feels jealous because these people, these _kids,_ clearly took risks, followed their dreams, made all the higher-up connections and now it's all paying off. He thought he was doing the same thing and then some by securing his future and pushing through a program that he didn't really care for

He's gone so far that he's starting to lose motivation even for the things he loves. 

He's tired and doesn't feel like studying anymore. He starts obsessively controlling his diet and skipping meals because maybe he'll become more slender this way and someone will want to hold him. He knows it's a stupid thought, but he keeps going because he feels like there's finally something he can control. 

After a few months, his stomach starts to hurt every time he eats sweets, which isn't often, but still. The ache lingers and he knows it isn't normal. He's scared because he's only 26, but he manages to find the courage to get it checked out anyways. 

Luckily, it's nothing serious: he's restricted his diet and skipped meals so often that rich or processed foods become a little overwhelming for his digestive system and with how hungry he gets from not eating for a couple days, he sometimes eats a little too much in one go. His doctor tells him it's not life-threatening, but he should still do something about it and he gives him a look like he knows that something that doesn't have to do with his physical body is not quite right. Auston's lost quite a bit of weight and he feels ashamed as he sits in the doctor's office, knowing they both know what's going on and what he won't admit to. 

He leaves the clinic and does nothing. He tries to eat a little better, makes "clean meals" at least. But it's hard to stick to anything when he doesn't feel like he's in control of his life anymore. So he eats better than before but not well and whenever he's just eaten a little ice cream or cheese, his stomach starts hurting again. He wonders if this is it, if he's gone too far and maybe it wasn't bad then, but it is now and his body is shutting down. It's all his fault, too.

He's 26 and it makes sense that he's trapped himself in job after job that breaks him down because he can't even take care of himself.

He's 26 years old and he still hears his dad and his hockey coaches telling him to be resilient, telling him to toughen up and he doesn't know anymore if the pain, discontent, lethargy, hopelessness and emptiness he carries around every single day are valid or just the result of being too weak, too impractical, too caught up in the poetics of emotion and aesthetic and melancholy and whatever other philosophical shit he could spend days reading but knows won't get him anywhere. He's too ashamed to ask anyone who's left in his life, he's too tired to talk about it and he knows that he can't reach out for help, so he just keeps it inside, puts on the mask he's perfected from being brought to the edge and yet not _allowed_ to fall off. He doesn't feel safe, he doesn't feel like he can do hard things and his stress tolerance is so low right now that the loud, incessant sounds of his neighbors knocking on doors downstairs, kids shouting in the street and construction nearby make him cry because _it won't stop._ Inside, he's screaming and he's hurting and he wants someone to help him so badly, but no one will. No one can, so he just lives in circles and tries to sort himself out and fails again and tries again and fails again. 

It's one thing to be lost and find your way back; it's another thing entirely to know exactly where you want to go and willfully keep yourself off the right path. Auston feels sick to his stomach when he comes to the slow, slinking realization that he's maybe been doing the latter his entire life. Because he's a coward, because he's disorganized, maybe even delusionally thinking he's got forever when he's already 26. 26 is not even the prime of anyone's life, there's ample room to grow, discover and experiment... but Auston's not doing any of that. He isn't lost. He knows exactly what he wants to do, he's just... not allowing himself to do it. 

Auston doesn't know what to do. All he knows is that he's 26, has an education and his life doesn't look anything like the stability and happiness that going to school was supposed to give him. He's 26 and he cries himself to sleep most nights, has what he's pretty sure is some kind of panic attack every other day and he wonders how many years he's losing from his life because he's barely eating, isn't motivated enough to go to the gym anymore and feels so anxious all the time that he feels nauseous all the time. 

He ignores everyone in his life except his family and then, he keeps things superficial: he's happy, he's got a great, challenging job, yes, he really is so fortunate that the economy is this bad and he actually has work! He pushes away the few friends he does/did have: Mitch moved out to Edmonton, following his boyfriend who's gone pro in the NHL. Mitch finds a great job and he and Connor maybe want to start a family some time, maybe next summer. He texts Auston to see how he's doing, but he's always the one to ask and Auston doesn't know what to say anymore. It's not that Mitch is a bad friend, but he doesn't even know where to start. So he lies and says he's fine, but lies don't make for a solid friendship and Auston doesn't want to pretend anymore. 

He stops texting back. He does this to other friends. He deletes their contact information from his phone. They don't call. 

Auston thinks he should probably get some help, but he doesn't know where to go. It's too expensive to go for private counselling, but he doesn't think he has many other options. The free services in his city look like they're just a one time thing and Auston doesn't think what he's going through can be resolved in one session. 

He tries his university; he's still taking one class after all. But the cut-off age for counselling is 25. 

Auston Matthews is 26. He's alone and he wishes he was 25 so he could get help, so that he could take back some of the decisions he's made recently. He wishes he was in control of his life. He wants someone to hold him when he's anxious and tell him it's going to be ok. 

He's 26 and he has no one. 


	2. 2

Auston meets Freddie a little by accident and at a time at which he isn't looking to add anyone else into his life. Mitch is visiting because Connor has a game in Toronto and it's a rare time that the game's at the same time that Mitch has a vacation from work. It's a few years before Auston really feels like his life is falling apart but in retrospect, the foundation's cracking even then. 

Mitch stays over and Auston puts on the easy front of extroversion that he's learned to wear over the years. Hockey's the last thing he cares about right then: he looks at the ice and sees a bunch of guys who are close to his age and yet are a thousand times more successful than he is. He looks around him at all the cheering fans and he wonders if anyone in the crowd of hundreds feels as empty as he does now. He looks down at the beer that Mitch insists he gets, which he's barely drunk and he wants to know how much longer he's going to keep deceiving himself that he can go on like this. Around the last half of the third period, he gets an automated text from one of those free self-help advice services he's subscribed to: apparently, he should know that he's not alone. He almost scoffs, catching himself just in time because he's in a public place.

He's got hundreds of people around him and one of his best friends beside him and he's never felt more alone in his life. 

Since he's Connor's boyfriend, Mitch gets to take them both to the players' lounge after the game. Auston wants to go home, but he knows that it's important to Mitch to have time with Connor, so he stays. He's gotten used to putting other people's needs before his own and he's not really sure that he has much agency over his own life anymore, so what does it matter? 

He's smiling outwardly, but he's critical on the inside and he's starting to get a little angry with everything around him that has to do with hockey. He remembers growing up to hate going to hockey practice almost every evening after school and early in the mornings on the weekend. He's fifteen when he starts hating everything about the sport, from the coach picking favorites at the expense of the "weaker" players, to him being one of them and wishing he could give his ice time to a kid who's barely even gotten any, to everyone including -- especially -- his dad, placing their hopes on him to get into the NHL. He hates the sounds of skates and sticks on ice, hates the parents who get too into it and are literally verbally abusing their kids during games and most of all, he hates how confused and hurt he feels when he tells his dad at seventeen, almost eighteen and just about to graduate high school, that he wants to quit hockey and focus on school, instead. He doesn't tell his dad that hockey makes him feel bad about himself, makes him realize that people can be capable of injustice or just plain mean things, and he gets a lecture about the importance of following through and staying committed. He's too upset to tell his dad that he already knows what follow through and commitment mean, because he wants to graduate university more than anything. Instead he sits there, says nothing, and cries alone in his room that night. He feels small and insignificant then, but the shock on his coach and teammates' faces when he, Auston Matthews, one of the team's star players, announces the next day that he's quitting the team makes him feel like he's gaining a little part of himself back. 

He wonders how much of what he's seeing around him now -- the players dressed up in suits, taking photos and signing autographs for fans -- is fake, just a marketing scheme to push the "hockey is a community sport" idea. The only thing he knows is genuine in that room is how Mitch and Connor feel about each other, but especially because of the state of mind he's in, even that makes him feel a little sad and bitter because he doesn't have anyone who looks at him like Connor looks at Mitch. Sometimes, he thinks that things would hurt a little less if he did. 

He's tired, resentful and he really thinks the Oilers' #44 or 47 or 42 or whatever is wearing a stupid suit and that some other guy on the Leafs, who's probably almost a half a decade younger than Auston, doesn't look much better. He feels guilty because his inner narrative is so toxic and meanwhile, one of his best friends is in town and is trying to involve him in an evening that's not just about supporting and reuniting with his boyfriend but also about cheering Auston up a little, too. It's not Mitch's fault that he doesn't know how much Auston's started hating hockey or how much Auston's started hating his life when Auston won't open up to him about it. 

Most of all, he's just really sad and his heart hurts. 

Of course it's then when a hulking redhead that Auston recognizes as one of the Leafs' goalies asks him if he can take the seat next to him. Exterior Auston smiles and politely tells him to go ahead; inner Auston tells the guy to screw off and keep hoarding wealth from the multi-million dollar contract he seals by pretending to give a fuck about fans, and the community, and charities, and whatever other sugar coated bullshit image the franchise is trying to sell. He kind of wants to get up and leave, to go find Mitch and make up some lie about needing to be in the office early the next day. He knows he can pull it off: he's been lying straight to Mitch's face about how happy he is and how great things are going at work for the past few days. What's one more lie, especially when he knows that Mitch will be spending the night with Connor? But then the guy's asking Auston if he was at the game earlier, if he knows any of the guys and Auston's too conditioned to the "everything's fine" script to be rude.

The guy introduces himself as Frederik Andersen, and the name does ring a bell. He tells Auston that he can just call him Freddie and Auston smiles and says he will. He thinks that it doesn't matter what he calls Freddie, because he doesn't see how they'd ever be talking to each other again. Freddie talks a little about the game and Auston wants to tune him out, but he also doesn't because he kind of finds Freddie's voice soothing and Freddie's kind of attractive, too. 

So he listens, but he wants to be anywhere but there. He says the right things at the right time because if there's one thing that Auston Matthews has learnt to do, it's to keep how he's feeling to himself and give everyone the smile and the comment they're looking for. He doesn't really get why, but he leaves with Freddie's number. He doesn't text and he throws his phone aside when he gets home alone, Mitch staying at Connor's hotel room for the night. 

But he wakes up the next morning to find that Freddie has texted him, telling him he really enjoyed talking to him the night previous. Auston's feeling a little... numb, because numb has become his normal. But Freddie's text kind of makes him smile as he remembers how genuinely happy Freddie seemed talking to him. Auston texts him back before he goes to work and for the first time, he doesn't fixate on how badly his day went when he gets home, because Freddie sent him a message back. 

Texting Freddie becomes a thing: most of the time, it's Freddie who initiates the conversation but after a while, Auston starts a few, too. It becomes somewhat therapeutic, because Freddie always asks Auston how his day went and Auston finds that he can be honest with him. He doesn't tell Freddie everything; it makes him feel worse to relive the more difficult parts of his day and part of him feels like he shouldn't burden Freddie with all his complaining. But Freddie wants to know about Auston and Auston's feelings, and it's not something he's used to. It's not like his family doesn't care or that his friends never ask. He's just gotten used to shutting them out, but Freddie doesn't really let him. 

It helps a little to have someone who knows when to listen and what to say when it's needed. Freddie kind of makes Auston want to get better, to feel better so that he can be a better friend. But he doesn't know how and when he thinks about how far Freddie is along in life, how most of his friends are, and he wonders if it's too late for him. 


End file.
